


Falling in Love At A Coffee Shop

by dontstopeating



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: #harry, #larry - Freeform, #louis, #one direction, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-30
Updated: 2013-04-30
Packaged: 2017-12-10 00:33:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/779755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontstopeating/pseuds/dontstopeating
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry works at a coffee shop. Louis is a regular customer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Falling in Love At A Coffee Shop

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> I don’t know okay. Frankly, I have absolutely no idea even if this makes sense, or if it’s even good, or worth reading, I just- I don’t know. I was sitting, on a Monday, alone, listening to the song, Falling In Love At A Coffee Shop by Landon Pigg, and its beautiful, and words came spurting out so here. Also, thank you to my favorite, one and only, Sarah. (Thingswehavetried). She gives me hope, and helped me actually finish this. Ily.

April 22nd, 2017

A caramel frap, no whip, extra caramel, occasionally sided with a Cranberry Orange scone; that’s what he ordered every time. Once a week, sometimes twice, usually on a Monday, he would walk in and order. Every time I watched him as he fixed the little fringe hanging over his forehead and shoved his beautiful, tiny hands into his pocket. His baggy clothes engulfed his scraggly body, and his slight dark circles were topped off with green-blue eyes. His voice was- still is- smooth, yet has an edge to it. Everything, from his face structure, to the way he breaths, has, is, and always will be, utterly perfect. It’s a Monday again, but this time, it’ll be different, the man I am unconditionally and irrevocably in love with, will forget it’s Monday, and forget to visit me, like he has for the past three years. 

\--  
February 4th, 2013

“Styles, can you go get his order? 'M busy making coffee,” Zayn shouted out as I pulled my apron over my head, tying the ends together.

“Ahemm? Magic word?”, I paused, turning around and winking. 

“Please. God Harry you’re such a loser,” he rolled his eyes, his lips turning into a ‘god help me please’, smirk. 

Chuckling to myself, I smiled at the customer and kept my eyes on the cash register, punching numbers in.

“What would you like?”, I spoke, and then looked up, a bigger smile spreading across my face when I saw him. He was beautiful.

“Caramel frap, no whip, extra caramel, and a Cranberry Orange scone,” he ordered, not taking his eyes off his phone. 

“Alright,” I went on with making his coffee, when I muttered, “Am I that blindingly great that you cant even look at me? Damn.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, I haven’t even seen you,” he made an extra effort to not look at me, and turned around.

“But I’ve seen you, and you’re pretty mesmerizing from every angle,” I teased.

“Well, sorry. But I don’t sell myself to dirty men,” he shoved his phone into his back pocket, and crossed his arms across his chest.

“Okay, okay. Sorry, that isn’t me. I promise,” I apologized, grabbing a scone from the display trays, and placing it in a bag.

“Hmph,” he turned around once again, eyes closed, and felt around for the bag and coffee. 

Grabbing them, he walked over to the door, and almost walked out.

“Hey! At least tell your future boyfriend your name!”, I hollered behind him, laughing.

“Fuck off,” he called before the door slammed shut, and I could tell he was trying his hardest not to laugh. 

February 25th, 2013

“Well hello Fuckoff,” I smirked at the boy as he blindly walked through the door, his eyes glued onto his phone screen, “What would you like today?” 

“You already know. So make my drink, and then I’ll leave,” he looked up, and I realized that I could stare at him all day. So, I took the chance to at least get the chance to admire him for the time being. 

“Zayn make the coffee please,” I hollered behind me, and he sighed, getting to work.

A few moments passed by, then I blurted out, “Why is everything you do perfect?”

“I beg to differ,” he smirked, turning a bit red, and then looking back down. Although, unlike all the other times, he was not on his phone.

“Do you want to grab some coffee sometime, fuckoff?”, I chuckled, winking. 

“Yeah, but right about now, from the counter, and then I'll be going,” he gave me the half smile he always does when he thinks he has won. So, he grabbed his coffee, and turned around, his back to me. He paused, cocking his head, "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do you want to get coffee?"

"Because I love you, of course."

He squinted scrutinizing me before grunting,“Louis."

“What?”, I responded, and before I could say anything else, he left with a murmur of,

“Louis Tomlinson. That’s my name. But I can’t love you.”

And of course I knew that, because of the receipts, and his credit card, and he- Louis- probably knew that I knew; But he told me his name. That was enough to plaster the biggest smile on my face for the rest of the week, and I tried to pretend the last part was never said.

April 25, 2013, (exactly two months later). *Lets pretend this is when Harry’s birthday is.*

Louis and I were getting closer, as of late, much to my own surprise. Everytime we talked, he would end it with, “I can’t love you.” I never understood why, because he would go out with me, have coffee with me, do stupid things with me, and even sleep with me. No sex, just sleep, and it was amazing to feel someone warm pressed against you, every night. I decided, maybe he couldn’t love me, but I could love him, and he would realize that it is okay to love.

“Zayn, I am so fucked. What if he says no? I am scared. Oh my god, why did you talk me into this?”, I passed back and forth in the small coffee shop, the couples cuddling on the sofa not helping my nerves. 

“I am going to slap you, Harry. You will be fine! You are Harry goddamn Styles, and he is so into you. There is no chance he will say no!”, Zayn held onto my shoulders, and looked into my eyes, “Go get him.”

I felt a bit more secure, but that obviously all came crashing down when he walked in. I closed my eyes, took deep breaths, and finally was as ready as any nervous person could get. When I opened my eyes though, I wish I hadn’t. 

I was enlightened by the sight of Louis, my Louis, kissing a brunette. She was skinny, had a loose fitting white shirt on, exposing a little of her stomach. After about 8 seconds, he broke the kiss, and then looked up. He saw me, and a curtain of hurt ran across his face, instantly changing his mood. All I could do was freeze, and wish that what I was seeing was just a nightmare and that I was going to wake up soon. 

Please. 

Louis and I locked eyes, and he mouthed, “I can’t love you.” 

May 20th 2013:

It has been 25 days. 25 days since Louis kissed the brunette girl, yet it has seemed like forever. My nights are spent clubbing, getting drunk, doing meaningless anythings in a continuous cycle. My phone has been shut off, a decision I made right after quitting my job, because Louis would try too hard to find me, or say sorry. Truth is, I didn’t want sorry. I wanted him. I wanted to cuddle with him, watch lame Disney movies, while he broke out in spontaneous songs, filling me with smiles. Each day, every minute of the day, my mind replays the kiss. 

Zayn tries to come over, get through bolted doors, and be heard over my sobbing, but it's all futile. He spends nights outside my doorstep, until I open the door to a drunk, hungover Zayn. He is my best friend, and I can not do this to him. There is nothing left for me here. That is why, today, May 20th, I have decided to move to LA. It isn’t a small move, it’s on the other side of my everything and fuck if that isn't terrifying, but I can’t hurt anyone anymore. 

August 15th 2013:

I decided to go back to Doncaster today, to see how Louis was. He never left my mind, and I wanted to see if it was the same for him. u

"Louis," my voice croaked, and I thought about turning around and running, but I didn't, "Louis. I still love you."  
"I can't," Louis responded in a hush voice, checking his surroundings, before shutting the door closed. 

"God Louis! Stop! You always say the same exact fucking thing so why don't you give me a damn reason and I'll leave and never look back," my voice rose, hurt controlling me. 

"I can't be gay for you. I can't be the guy," Louis' voice rose higher than mine, proving his point. 

"But you can be the guy for that girl?", I pointed to a frame on his wall, of him and her, "look me in the eye and tell me you don't love me."

"I don't like you. Not even close," his voice was monotoned and cracking, and that's all I heard before my world came crashing down. 

October 2nd 2013:

I decided to take up writing. It helped me release whatever I kept inside, and what I couldn’t tell anybody. I met a man named Steve, and he was really sweet. For now, he is just my editor, but maybe one day he will be my Louis. 

 

May 20th 2014:

I haven’t written in this old thing in forever. I have been so busy with the publishing of my book, and signings. His name is Steve; My boyfriend’s name, of course. I started writing, and he has helped with launching the book. 

I love him like a brother, but he doesn’t know that. 

I don’t love Louis anymore, but my heart doesn’t know that. 

The name of the book is, ‘Small Miracles’, and it is about a boy who finds love on the street. The boy is different from others, and thinks he isn’t good enough, until he finds someone else. It is another boy, and he makes him feel worth something. Life makes sense, until a bus hits his love, instantly taking his life. 

The book is about Louis, but he doesn’t know that. I don’t know how Louis feels about me now. I am probably dead to him. Maybe he is married a brunette or two. Louis is mine, they, including Louis, don’t know that. 

It’s been almost a year, and I don’t plan on going back to Doncaster. Zayn calls me sometimes, less then before, because now he has a girlfriend. He knows I am settled, and I am okay. I know I don’t love Steve like I love Louis, but he doesn’t know that. 

July 17th 2014: 

“I don’t want to come back,” I moaned, quite frustrated with Zayn. Who did he think he was? Coming back here like nothing was wrong, asking me to come back?

“He is breaking. He has for the past year. God, Louis! Don’t you see that?”, he was begging now, placing his hand lightly on my knee, and sitting next to me on the couch.

“Actually I don’t, and quite frankly I don’t care to,” I abruptly stood up, turning my back to Zayn.

“He doesn’t want me. He said so,” I choked out. 

“There’s more to it! His parents would kill him,” Zayn tried to turn me around but I stood strong, and then painfully yet firmly said, 

“That doesn’t change that I love my boyfriend.

That was the last time I talked to him, for a while.

August 1st 2014:

“Babe I’m--”, I shut the door behind me, a huge paper bag blocking my view. What I saw next immediately stopped me in my tracks. Steve was on top of some guy, on the couch, having a very heated makeout session. Hearing my keys clatter to the floor, he pulled himself off of the guy, standing up and fixing his half-off shirt. 

“Don’t bother explaining. We’re done,” I bent over and grabbed the keys again, slamming the door in his face.

August 2-19 2014:

Steve has tried calling, but I haven’t gotten back to him. I am at my moms place right now, until I find a job, and settle in my own apartment. Sure, I am back in Doncaster, but no one knows. I keep a low profile, only going out if I really have to, and then running back. 

August 20 2014:

I told my mom I didn’t want to go to the party. But no, she said that maybe outside time would help the “healing.” Unfortunately, all it did, was screw things up, literally. 

“Harry?”, Louis said in a hush whisper, as if afraid to let anyone else hear.

“Yup,” I mumbled back, slightly losing balance, thanks to the alcohol. 

He inched towards me, the smell of his cologne filling my senses. His hand slowly and gently pressed against my face, his touch sending electricty through my body.

“I want you,” I responded to the touch, moaning into his neck. 

And that’s all I remember of last night.

This morning I woke up to the familiar warmth of Louis perfectly fitting into the curves of my body, and his messy hair in my face. I immediately let go, and ran out of the door. As much as I hated one night stands, I knew this was one. I was completely over Louis; Even if I wasn’t he wouldn’t take me back after last night. 

September 1st 2014: 

“Mum, how the hell did Zayn know?!”, I whispered loudly enough for her to know I would be screaming at her if it wasn’t for Zayn outside the door, listening to us talk.

“I don’t know, Harry! But maybe this is good for you. You haven’t been social in months,” she fought back, trying to persuade me to talk to Zayn. Lucky for her I missed him, so I sighed, and then opened the door, getting ready for the lecture.

“Talk to him,” was all Zayn firmly said, before driving me into a huge hug.

“I can’t after what I did. I fucked him then left!”, I pulled myself out of Zayn’s arms but not distancing myself away from him.

After I said that, the room fell silent, the only thing filling it was Zayn’s stares.

“How could you be such an ass!”, he argued, stepping away from me. 

“I was drunk and he was there! I know it wasnt right..”, I tried explaining myself but just got frustrated, knowing I was wrong.

“But you still did it. You know what? Fuck you,” and tonight I decided I have had enough with slamming doors. 

November 5th 2014:

I love Louis William Tomlinson, everything about him. That’s it. 

November 27th 2014: 

I haven’t written in a while, but I have tried to get Louis. I’ve gotten the sassy remarks, the slamming doors, even a slap, but no Louis. Today is Thanksgiving, and I am thankful for Louis. Thankful that even if he doesn’t love me, I get to see him. I just hope one day, maybe we will be okay.

December 1st 2014: 

I took the job back today, but instead of my boss being Zayn, it was a blonde, irish man named Niall. Zayn is now an English teacher, and likes that job better. Niall is a sweet guy, who laughs alot, but really gets serious when it is work time. We haven’t gotten very close, simply because I don’t talk. It isn’t as easy to work in the same place where my heart found love and lost it. 

December 2nd 2014:

It is a Monday, but it doesn’t hold any significance. Louis doesn’t come to the coffee shop anymore, and I understand why. I wouldn’t come if I was him either.

December 10th 2014:

I never told anyone that I wrote this diary, or why I did. It didn’t really make much sense to me, to be honest. I guess I wrote it, so that one day, maybe if Louis would ever take me. 

 

December 20th 2014:

Niall knows about everything that happened. He told me to keep trying, and to never give up. We were talking about me and my issues, when he suddenly looked very glum. That’s when I figured out the love of his life died right before he could propose to her. I told him to move on, but I think it’s a bit too early for that. 

December 24th 2014:

I guess I will just recall today in a story format.

“Happy Birthday,” I shyly looked down, as the door creaked open, and the smell of warm cookies blew outside.

“Sorry, I don’t feel like being used on my birthday. Thanks though,” but before Louis could slam the door on me, I stopped it.

“Don’t,” I tried prying the door open, so I could step in and keep him against me.

As usual, he was stubborn, and won, cutting off the warmth of his house with a simple door. 

 

I didn’t completly fail, though. When he closed the door on me, I slumped down into the cold ground, and scribbled a letter, slipping it through the door. It read: 

Louis. I will always love you. I know you don’t think so, and I deserve that, and you deserve better. But you are honestly the best thing that I have ever had. You make me laugh even when I don’t want to, and your smile lights up the whole room. I loved it when you played with my curls, gently pulling on them out of habit when we were curled up together. I love the way we fit. I love how I can wrap my arms around you, and you would hum beautiful songs into my chest. I love how you look in my shirt, it reaching mid-thigh. I love your voice when in the morning, all raspy and hot. I love how your nose wrinkles up when you’re trying your best not to laugh. I love your lame jokes, late at night. I love staring at you when you sleep, your chest gently falling and rising, and your cheekbones formed by the darkness of the night. I love your stupid habit of sliding your arm under my pillow sometimes, when you want me to be closer to you. I could go on forever, but this paper is almost out, and I don’t think a novel could fit under your door slot. I love you, Louis Tomlinson. I never stopped, and I never will. 

December 31, 2014:

Louis came at my door today. He was wearing a blue sweater, that fit loosely on him, and jeans. His unmade hair peeked out of his beanie, laying on his forehead, perfectly. His eyes were full of sincere hurt, and love. I stood there dumbfounded, surprised by the man standing at my doorstep. It was New Years Eve, 11:59 PM, and here he was; He was everything I have ever wanted. Before giving him a chance to leave, I blurted out, “I’m sorr-”, but was cut short of his soft lips meeting mine. We moved in perfect harmony, when suddenly everything didn’t matter. He had me, and I had him. We stood there, kissing, in the freezing cold with snowflakes melting on our bodies. 

The kiss slowed down, my hands still around his tiny waist, his hands tangled up in my hair.  
“I can love you Harry Styles,” he whispered, pressing hot kisses to my cheeks, his eyelashes fluttering across my skin, “And I do.”

\----

March 15th 2016:

I found this today, and I guess I am here to fill the last page of this book. January 3rd 2016, Louis, my husband, was diagnosed with alzheimer’s. It is still the beginning of the disease, but for now, he has forgotten his house, how to do tiny things, recipes that we learned together, and today, he forgot his son. We have a son named Charlie. He is 7, and we adopted him last year. Right now, he is living at Zayn’s house. This morning, Louis was also admitted into a hospital, where they will keep him safe. The doctors informed me that soon, very soon, he will forget me to. I want him to tell me he loves me once more, and feel it, before I am nothing to him anymore. 

 

May 2nd 2016:

“I love you, Louis Tomlinson,” I planted a kiss to his forehead, handing him his favorite book. 

“That’s great. Thank you! But who are you?”, he asked, smiling, trying to remember.

My heart shattered, eyes filling to the brim with tears, “Your husband.” 

“Sorry, sir. I don’t think I have one. Maybe I’ll fall in love with you one day!”, Louis smile grew, and I grinned at him, a single tear rolling down my cheek. 

“Maybe. I guess right now you can’t love me. That’s okay. I will wait. Alright?”, I pushed myself up off the ground, where I sat usually, to be level with Louis. 

What I said wasn’t a lie. Truth is, I will forever love Louis. That man from the coffee shop.


End file.
